


IT SHOULD FADE AWAY

by tobifreakazoid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Broken Dean, F/M, Fluff, Healer!Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Protective!Reader, Romance, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:09:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3918928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobifreakazoid/pseuds/tobifreakazoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn’t a gentlemen. And she never minded. It was nice to occasionally have another body next to her that wasn’t her cat, Li. The mattress dipped under his weight as he got himself comfortable. She felt his hands snake to her midriff, pulling her closer to him. He was a luxury that she could enjoy every so often, and she would make the most of him. If he needed her, then by the Goddess, she would gladly give herself to him.</p><p> </p><p>I suck at this but for the sake of my sanity, i will fill up this box with words.<br/>the reader is a healer that Dean and Sam had saved before. when Sam is sent to Hell, Dean goes to her for comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She was never a heavy sleeper.

So, when the knocks started on her window, as they usually do during the end of the week, she got up, pushed her comforter off her and opened it, letting the drunkard in her room. She didn’t bother with the lights. Dean had been here many times enough to know where everything is. And as usual, he made a shaky beeline to her bed, plopping himself face first into the mattress, making himself at home. She didn’t mind that much, being used to his unceremonious visits. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she gave a weary sigh and joined him, jostling him so to make some space for her. Dean is a hog when it comes to sharing a space.

“ Move over you idiot.”

He gave an indecipherable grunt, possible cussing at her in that weird way of his, but scooted over, letting her lay beside him. His short hair was matted to his skull and he smelled like alcohol, sweat and blood. She understood. He had just gotten back from another hunt. She sat up immediately to assess the damage done. The dark red stickiness that coated her fingers when she ran them through his hair confirmed it. He was hurt. Whatever demon he had went after had injured him, and he, being the moron that he was, didn’t bother to even treat the wounds. 

This stupid recklessness wasn’t something that she associated with him, at least, on when a life was at stake. The alcohol was probably to numb the pain. Getting up from the bed, she moved to her cramped bathroom to grab the first-aid kit, as well as the cleansing salve that she had concocted the night before. The scratches and wounds might get infected if she left him to his own devices. She used to leave the salve, made from holly, sage and an infusion of lemongrass and ash to stop the bleeding, with Sam. But since…no. No more of that. Dean needed her. Stupid emotions would have to wait for now.

She got back to him and saw that the space she had to fight for had been invaded without any mercy. Sitting down on whatever’s left of the space on the bed, she laid the items carefully on her night stand. She patted him awake, or at least half conscious.   
“ What? Can’t it wait till morning?” His words were slurred and rough from the pain laced with intoxication. “ It could, big guy, but then I would have to perform an actual healing prayer to get rid of whatever’s left of the demon form your system. And tomorrow’s a Sunday, so let’s not ruin it for me”, she said, tying up her hair into a messy bun, and flipped the lights on.

With something that could only be described as a whine, he sat up and leaned against the headboard, letting her undress him. She had done this a few times, and the awkwardness between them had subsided. She was a healer. She knew her limits when it comes to broken patients. 

And he was the most broken of them all.

With gentle hands, she traced his wounds, murmuring the Goddess’s words and letting it envelope him. The wounds weren’t infected, thank Goddess, but he would need a lot of rest. He had a nasty cut on his right arm, a puncture on his thigh that wasn’t bleeding and a galaxy of minor scratches and scrapes.

“ How the hell did you even climb my window? Your leg’s injured, for fuck’s sake! Goddess, I shouldn’t have let you go on that hunt alone, you idiot! “  
She knew that it was wrong to scold him when he was as batter as he is now, but she couldn’t help herself. He was the biggest asshole in the history of the world in her book right now. And she didn’t give the title lightly, either. Ever since Sam was dragged to hell, Dean hasn’t been the same. She understood that. If he was a Worshipper, he would have been a Guardian, no doubt. He holds everything close, and shoulders too much at a time. It hurt her to see him disintegrate. But what she hated most was the fact that he, the pillar that she had leaned on for so many years after they saved her from becoming a sacrifice at the altar of a fake god, was looking at her to lean on. And she wasn’t strong enough to hold his weight. She acted tough, she did all she could to get him back on his feet, but somehow, it wasn’t enough, not by a long shot.

“ M’sorry. Didn’t think that it would matter anymore. As long as the demon’s dead.”

There it was. The brokenness, not in his body, but in his heart. In vino, veritas and all that shit, she guessed. She cleaned the dirt and blood off him as best as she could, and started applying the salve. It stung him a bit and he let out a pained hiss. Was the beer starting to wear off? 

The minutes ticked by as she tended to him. He was silent for most of it, letting out an occasional hiss and curse when she touched somewhere that was still tender from the fight. Once she was done, she rummaged her closet for the clothes that he left the last time he visited her. Luckily, they were still there. 

“ Here ya go, dude. You’re not sleeping anywhere near me naked.”

He chuckled, sounding a bit like his old self. “ Don’t trust those raging feminine hormones of yours? I don’t blame you, you know. I am quite irresistible.” He tried to get into a sexy pose, but ended up wincing and crying out from the wound on his torso. It was her turn to laugh, being the sadistic little bastard that she was. “ Please, Mr. Irresistible. You wouldn’t even last three seconds before you collapse. And don’t worry. My ovaries are the least of your concerns. Try to survive tonight first.”  
“ So that’s a maybe, then?” came his voice from the bathroom.

“ You wish.”

She cleaned up her supplies, stowing them away for a later time. She would need to change his bandages in the morning, and the salve needs to be replenished. She would have to de-demonize his clothes, but that could wait also. Right now, she needs sleep. She changed her sheets, discarding the bloody one. Picking his clothes up, she tossed them unceremoniously into the laundry basket.

By the time the faucet in the bathroom was turned off, she was already in her bed, cocooned in her comforter. He didn’t bother to offer to sleep on the sofa. He wasn’t a gentlemen. And she never minded. It was nice to occasionally have another body next to her that wasn’t her cat, Li. The mattress dipped under his weight as he got himself comfortable. She felt his hands snake to her midriff, pulling her closer to him. He was a luxury that she could enjoy every so often, and she would make the most of him. If he needed her, then by the Goddess, she would gladly give herself to him. Let him draw whatever broken strength he could from her, and let her pull the old Dean out of him.

“ Goodnight, idiot.”


	2. I'LL FADE AWAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here's the second chapter...and there's possibly more, but it'll be up right after my exams.  
> this is the morning after.

She woke up the next morning to an empty bed.

Panicking slightly, she jack knifed from the bed and was hit with a wave of vertigo. Stupidity at its finest. She counted to ten and willed the room to stop pirouetting. Was he gone? Usually he would hang around for breakfast at the very least before rabbiting away on a mission to get his skull cracked. It wouldn’t do her any good to actually worry about him, so she decided to do the next best thing; clean herself up. There was some dried blood under her nails and she smelled like she bathed in beer. The combo of aromas didn’t go well with the still lingering smell of the healing salve.

Pushing the comforter off her, she made her way to the bathroom. Whatever Dean was up to, it could wait until she was at least actually awake. Grabbing her towel, knocking about three books from her shelf in the process, she pushed the door of the bathroom open.

And was greeted with the sight of an unconscious Dean.

He was crumpled on the floor of her shower, still in his night clothes, trembling. Her training kicked in. Senses awake now, she rushed to him, turning him gently and propped him on his back. He was murmuring something, but she couldn’t make it out. That wasn’t important. What’s important was that she needed to get him out of the bathroom. He needed medical attention and the bathroom was too cramped for her to work.  
She was used to first aid, and didn’t hesitate to take action. She checked for his vital signs; chest, nose, pulse. They were ragged, but still there. He was burning up. Tilting his head gently to allow airflow, she spoke urgently.

“ Dean, dude, wakeup!”   
“ Dean, can you hear me?”  
“ Dean!”

His eyelids fluttered open. The green of his eyes were tinged with red and were out of focus, but all in all, he was alright. She gave a thankful sigh, grateful that the Goddess was still watching out for him. She cradled his head on her lap, letting him get his bearings. He gave a sudden lurch and puked out water and blood. It was horrible, but it lets her know that the healing she had performed on him worked. Healings was rarely pretty, but the water showed that the contaminations from the demon had been flushed out completely. The blood, however…

She had to find out what exactly he went after. 

He looked at her groggily, barely registering her presence. “(Y-y/n)? Whe-what the hell happened?” 

“ You passed out. I’ll explain later. Right now, we need to get you out of here.” She checked his pupils and pulse, and found them both to be normal. “ We need to get out of here, but I’m not strong enough to carry you. Can you stand?” she kept her voice precise and professional, but her heart was frantic. What if he had a concussion? 

His eyes started to close.

No. Sleep is bad, especially if he had a concussion. “ Dean, listen to me. You can’t sleep.” He didn’t respond. She could try to drag him back to the bed, but they would both get hurt in the process. She was left with no choice.   
With a whisper of “ Goddess help us all”, she channelled whatever energy she could muster into her palms and laid them on his chest. She felt for his weakening heartbeat, visualised it, and with a deep breath, send the jolt of energy to it. The effects were immediate. His eyes, beautiful, beautiful emeralds, flew open as he gasped for air. 

Her brows were drenched with sweat and the exertion was taking its toll on her. Rising on shaky legs, she guided him up and out of the bathroom, her arms around his shoulders. At that point, she didn’t know who was supporting who. All she knew was that they needed to get to her room.

And they collapsed on top of the bed.

It was Dean’s turn to panic. The last thing that she noticed was Dean trying to shake her awake, mouthing her name. The world turned black for a while. And she didn’t mind the very least.   
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“ Stay still, moron, or that gash is gonna start bleeding again! I don’t need blood on my sofa. And I certainly don’t want you to spill your guts on it!”

That silenced his trashing a bit. She tightened the bandage on his torso, tied it and straightened up. The man was a baby when he is hurt. She’d deal with enough restless patients before, but Dean takes the cup for the whiniest. The cuts had healed nicely, and none of the wounds reopened. She had checked his eyes the moment she woke up from her temporary comatose, hoping that the alcohol had flushed from his system. The herbs worked better when they are not nulled by anything. The beer was vital last night when she had to stitch him up, to stop most of the pain, but this morning, she needed him lucid.

“ There ya go, Dean. All wrapped up and bedridden.”

“ Who says I’m staying in bed?” He said as he put on his shirt. He had managed to clean up, but he wasn’t looking any better. “ I do. And since this is my domain, what I, the awesome owner says, goes. Deal with it.” She cleaned up, and stowed away her supplies in the kitchen. 

There were Chinese take outs on the small coffee table, and Avatar was playing on her tiny TV. The sofa was sagging under Dean’s weight. Granted, he wasn’t as Sasquatch-y as his brother, but the man was still bigger than her. And she wasn’t someone that people label as tiny and delicate. Being a part time hunter and healer meant that she had to deal with things that normal people have never seen and lived to tell the tale. 

She grabbed a beer from her fridge and offered him one, sitting on the sofa next to him. He was watching the movie, but she saw his eyes. They were miles away. And she figured out, if she wanted to ask him, it was now or never.

“ Dude, about last night, I, ah…”

He looked at her weird. She wasn’t one to get her tongue tied too often. Damn. She figured she should just spill it out. “ What exactly were you hunting last night? I’m guessing that it wasn’t a normal demon, by the way the healing spell reacted.”  
He remained silent. 

She pushed on, undeterred by his reaction. “ I really need you to tell me. In case there are any side effects” She tried to keep her tone soothing. “And,” she continued, “ If there is anything peculiar about this demon, or if there is something that I can do to help, you have to let me know, Dean. It’s the least I can do after everything.”

“ After everything? Sheesh…You really don’t get it, do you?”, he scoffed, and looked away. She didn’t like the look in his eyes. Her brows furrowed. What did he even mean? She didn’t know, but she needed to find out more about the demon. He might despise her for it, but it was for his own good.

“Look, Dean. I’m not kidding ‘bout this. This..this is not you. You’re reckless, always pigheading into danger. At least let me look up the demon. I can help, you know. If there’s a better way to kill it, we can do it together. I mean, I-“  
“ I DON’T NEED ANYMORE DEAD BODIES ON MY HANDS!”

That shocked her into silence. His breathing was ragged, his eyes laced with rage. In all her years being with him, she had never seen him like this. Unconsciously, she moved away from him, her body registering danger before her mind. That sobered him up. He reached out for her, letting his hand rest gently against her upper arm.

“ Fuck. I’m sorry, so fucking sorry (y/n). I didn’t mean it like that. Im a dick for shouting at you like that.”

What she did next wasn’t what he expected. And he expected many scenarios to go down. She could slap him, curse him out, give him the cold shoulder, and spit venom in her words-

She embraced him.

Her body, willing itself to meld with his. He could feel her heart beat from under his beaten up jacket, and the trace of her soothing hands on his back. He smelled cinnamon and soap, and felt her hair caressing his neck. Her face was hidden from him, but he didn’t need to see it to feel the comfort she was trying to give. His hands wrapped themselves around her, bringing her closer to him. Warmth, and love, and tenderness, and happiness, and comfort, and

…dead bodies.

He saw in his mind’s eye how the Si’lat, the demon, transformed itself into Sam in the rundown storehouse near the docks. How it ripped the skin off of Sam’s face with ease, smiling as it did so. And it transformed into her, the one comfort that he could find in a world that has gone bat-shit crazy. He attacked the creature, but it dodges at every turn. Dodge, Sam. Dodge, (Y/n). Dodge, Benny. Dodge, Cas. Dodge, dodge, dodge.

Stab.

He killed it. When its body was that of (y/n).

He pulled out of her arms. 

“ I’m here for you, big guy. I’m here. And by Alilat’s name, I don’t plan on going anywhere soon.” Her eyes, such beautiful things, he thought, were sincere. She claimed that they had saved her that day, but sometimes he wonders, who had actually saved who. If it wasn’t for her, he would have given up his life the moment Sam went to hell. What use was a gift if you can’t use it to protect someone you love? He drunk himself into oblivion countless time, jumping from bar to bar, hoping that the bottle in his hands would be the last he tastes. 

But then she found him. Lying wasted on the floor of a dinghy shop, and brought him back to her apartment. He didn’t know how she found him, seeing that he had cut ties with everyone after Sam was dragged to hell, but she gave him a reason to live again. Said that he would shame Sam if he ever saw him like this. Said that he shouldn’t waste the sacrifice Sam made. Said that she still needed him when he knew he needed her.  
So he kissed her. On the couch that groaned and moaned from their combined weight, in the house that was littered with mismatched furniture and a dripping faucet in the kitchen, on an evening like any other, he kissed her. She stiffened. Did she hate this?  
But when he felt her eyelashes flutter close against his cheeks, and her lips moulding with his, he knew that she didn’t mind. She was kissing him back. He cupped her cheek, willing her to come closer, come closer. She did, lacing her hands into his short hair, her fingers moving languidly. 

He swallowed every sound she made, loving each one. He has had his share of women, and the kisses came in abundance, but none of them had made him this hungry. Hungry for a taste of her lips. Hungry for her pleasure. Hungry for more. More than sex, more than passion. Just more. The once tentative kiss now became sloppier, more demanding, taking rather than receiving. He felt her hand on his chest claw shut, her nails raking deliciously against his skin. She made him forget about the world around them, about hunters and humans, demons and angels, Heaven and Hell…

Sam’s in Hell.

And (y/n) might be next. God knows everyone he loves turns up dead one way or another.

The hardest part wasn’t wrenching himself away from (y/n), but the guilt and heartache that came with it. Her eyes were full of a fire that he had seen countless time, but while theirs burned bright, hers was a flame that razed the grounds upon which he stood. She wanted him, and she didn’t understand why he was looking at her like that.

Cherry red lips, lit up eyes and cheeks that bloomed. He wanted to savour this image of her forever. Beautiful, bold, his. His (y/n), even if it was only for the moment.  
He needed to leave, before he dragged (y/n) deeper into this shithole. She deserved someone that could protect her, love her, and not get her mutilated by demons. So he did the most cowardly thing that he had ever done. He stood up, said sorry, and ran out the door as if hellhounds were at his heels.

He didn’t turn back.


	3. THE BEGINNING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where the reader meets the Whinchesters for the first time.

Life isn’t permanent. Nothing is in this world. The priestess back at the Earth temple taught her that a long time ago. The only thing that lasts, the pale woman told her, was love and the mark that it leaves on a soul, be it good or bad. She didn’t get it back then, seeing that she was only five and was still learning the ways of the Goddess, but now she had found that she understood it completely.  
Dean Winchester had left a mark unlike any other. From what was gratitude and admiration sprang love and respect. A long time ago, at the orphanage that she lived in, she used to curse her gifts, screaming and shouting for it to go away. She heard voices at night, and saw apparitions floating, their eyes void. She could sense when someone was dying, and, if she lets her guard down, feel the life sucked out of her tiny body. She used to vomit blood, and at times when she went into trances, she would harm herself. She was 7.  
But there was a part of her life that she was glad for; how she met the people that became her family.  
It was a Friday night. She remembered that much because she had taken over Fanny’s shift at the diner because the poor girl had a dislodged shoulder. There wasn’t that many people that night, like every other night before it. The town was small, and the people in it God-fearing. They went to work with kisses from their wives and went straight back home. A looptown was what she called them. Loop away, loop away. The predictability was safe. She needed something stable in her life, after running away from life at the Earth temple.  
She was thankful for the training that the Priestess had bestowed onto her after she was recruited from the orphanage and into the temple, but it wasn’t helping her much. The voices didn’t quiet down, the figures didn’t stop, and the weird noises that she sometimes heard didn’t cease. All they did was supply her with a channel for her powers. Healing. She had hated it at first. It seemed stupid. She just wanted to be normal for once, or at least to be able to fight back against the voices. She had to remember the names, the traits and the energies of different herbs, plants, parts and organs. She had to learn how to sew back an organ, how to reconstruct bones and how to voice out the Goddess in her words. It was all meaningless if the voices didn’t stop. But then she grew older and saw that healing was truly a gift. Her powers weren’t just to tear her apart, but it could be used for good, too.  
So she continued down the path, obedient. The Goddess protected her. The voices didn’t bother her anymore after the day she understood the true nature of the Goddess. She was alright. She was safe. There was no more that the sisters at the temple could offer her, so they gave her a choice; join them and serve or make her way in the world. She chose.  
And so there she was, one Friday night, locking up the run down diner, stowing the key in her grease laden red and blue striped uniform. The night was hot, making her cotton shirt cling to her back. She shoved her hands into her pockets, more of a habit than anything, and started walking back to her apartment.  
She wasn’t one to cower from things that she couldn’t see, but she wasn’t an idiot, either. She heard a second set of footsteps, then another, and then some more. She walked faster, cursing herself for not finding an apartment that was much nearer to the frickin’ diner. She took a turn, hoping to shake the footsteps off, and caught a glance of her followers. They had their faces completely covered with a red hood, and in their hands were objects that were foreign to her; a sharp stake with a silvery end. 

Saying that she almost shat (is that even the past tense of shit? She didn’t really care for grammar that much) her pants was an understatement. She ran for dear life. She was trained in healing, not full frontal combat against that many people. If she had the time and resources, she could something up, but neither was at the disposal. She couldn’t fend that many people off. So she had fled.  
The cold night air whipped her hair against her face as she made a sharp turn into an alley. Her shoulder bumped painfully with the rough wall, but it wasn’t the time to be minding pain. A lot more was going to come if she was caught. She heard the pants and bangs of people chasing after her; fuelling her to move even faster. She knew that she couldn’t run forever, and that she wasn’t the most athletically built person around, so she tried to formulate a plan with the oxygen-depraved brain of hers. She needed a safe house. Her home wouldn’t do. If they knew where she worked, then they should have half the wit to check out her house.  
She didn’t know who they were or what they want. But she did know that they wanted her, which was more than enough information for her, thank you very much. She stopped in her tracks, her way blocked by two men, out of breath in those bloody hoods. The others hadn’t catch up yet. She weighed her options. Two men she could handle. Thus, she charged.  
The first one, a guy at least twice her size, tried to bear hug her when she came for him. He was big, but as they say, the bigger they are the harder they fall. Ducking slightly, she delivered a blow to his side, side stepped behind him and kicked him in behind his knees while her arms went around his thick head that she twisted. The slight crunch she heard proved that the guy would be down for a while. The second one charged, his stake blazing. Deftly deflecting his attack with her right arm, she aimed her punch for his windpipe but missed when his free knuckle went to her stomach. It stung, causing her to double over. She didn’t have long to recover, because he landed a second blow to her arched back with his elbow. She fell next to the baldly she knocked out earlier.  
She was pressed for options. In her haze, she did the only thing that she could. She used the Goddess’s power. Grabbing her attacker’s leg, she muttered the names of sacred runes and dug deep into his core. The person panicked and had tried to pull his leg free, but the spell was working. He stoop rooted in the spot as she sapped his strength through his veins. Her hands glowed blue in the darkness as his tugs grew weaker, and weaker, and weaker, until finally, he fell to the harsh ground. Her vision no longer blurry and disoriented, she stood up.  
She kicked him, for good measures. He was nothing more than a sack of blood and bones now. His anima was running rampant in her body, giving her a rush more powerful than adrenaline.  
Never could she have saw the hooded figure that bludgeoned her head from the back. Sucks to be her.  
“You little fuckers! The hell do you want with me, anyways? Get me out of here, morons!”  
(y/n)’s chest heaved madly as she shouted into a room full of chanting worshippers. She woke up abruptly, thanks to the life force of the guy she just tapped into, tied to a stone table with a massive statue at her foot. Scary enough to be awoken into a place that was foreign, with only candle light to illuminate the walls and something that smells like a crazy cat lady’s handbag.  
The statue was no décor. Ten feel high at the very least, it stood menacingly at the edge of her resting spot. Beholding the head of a wolf crudely made from stone with four horns and a bloody maw, the statue looked nothing like she had ever seen before. At its dragonoid feet were four chalices, not unlike the ones that they used to use during ceremonies at the earth temple. Earth, air fire and water were the traditional elements, but in her temple, they worshipped life, death, time and fate.  
Her wrists and ankles were bloody and sore from chaffing against her restraints. It was no use; the bindings were too tight. Her throat felt dry, too. She had been trying to get a response from her assailants for a while now, to no avail. They continued on with their calling for the Dark God. It was unsettling. She knew how these rituals went. They would sacrifice her to the statue, claiming that her blood could revitalize him. It was a bunch of bullshit, but these people didn’t care. All they want is her blood for their master. Their faith in a piece of gruesome stone was terrifying, and to be honest, quite sad. Selling their souls to a piece of rock.  
It wasn’t a time to pity them. She needed to escape, and fast, before her insides became her outsides. Force clearly wasn’t an option in her current situation, and the worshippers were deaf to her pleas, so she did the next best thing; she joined in their chanting. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”, she thought. The moment they recognised her voice in the midst of their ceremony, they stopped and stared. But she didn’t. She went on rambling words that didn’t make any sense to her, but was repeatedly sung by the mass at her feet. For more flair, she slid in a few spells that ignited her hands with the blue glow. It was draining, but at least that got their attention.  
“ The Lord has awaken!”  
“ He has come back to us”  
“ Praise! Praise!”  
She turned her head to one of the followers, speaking in a voice that she hoped was commanding enough. “Release me at once! How dare you restrain my vessel so! I shall walk this Earth once more, and wreak havoc on the land! Those who obey shall be spared, and those who invoke my wrath shall perish!” She unclenched her hands, letting a stream of blue loose. The crowd retreated from her.  
The man was clearly frightened, and at her said-so, moved to release her from her bindings. She didn’t really have a plan past the dramatic act that she had put on, other than to flee. The exit was unblocked as the red-hooded idiots were huddled opposite of it. She tried to put up an intimidating front, but the truth of the matter is that she was losing energy, and fast. The bluish glow was nothing more than a sparkler, not enough to do any damage whatsoever. All she had going for her was to run, as far and fast as her legs could carry her.  
The wide-eyed man sliced through her shackles as fast as he could. She glared at him as if he was meaningless, but in her heart, she was terrified. She wasn’t prepared to go down cowering, however. She evened her breathing, preparing to get away from this crazy nightmare.  
All hell broke loose when she felt, rather than saw the explosion.  
It shook the building to its foundations, causing those nearest to the west wall to be flung in various directions and left a gaping hole in the structure. The dust and rubble cleared away, and two men emerged, moving forth. She coughed, the dust getting into her system. The newcomers, one tall and gangly, holding an, wait, isn’t that an angel blade? The other one, a shorter blonde, was also wielding one.  
The tall one caught her eye. He rushed to her, crouching so that they were at the same level. “Hey, this might seem confusing right now, but we need you to come with us, and fast”, he said, his voice gentle. She didn’t really want to trust them, but she figured the enemy of her enemy was her friend, at least for now. So when he stood up and offered his hand, she took it.  
“Come on, Sammy! We need to get out of here fast”, warned the other one, seeing that the stunned cult was getting back on their feet. They made it through the hole, running at top speed along the dimly lit corridor. They took a left, then a right.  
With a sudden mutter of “Fuck!”, the shorter of the two doubled back, his eyes on the who she assumed was the head priest. He ran in the opposite direction, aiming for the portly man. The red hooded priest’s face contorted, his eyes flashing red, his maw tripling in size, smarting scissor-like teeth. She wanted to help her saviour, but a sharp tug on her wrist signalled her to keep running.  
A million questions were playing in her mind, but now was not the time for them. They came to a flight of stairs, ascending to the top. Unlatching the door, she burst into the night air, greeted by the sight of a barren land, save for an Impala a few yards away. They made for the car. Her lungs were on fire. She collapsed on the ground, rapidly inhaling and exhaling. The guy next to her was in a condition no better than she, except that his eyes were trained on the door on the ground. He was muttering something under his breath, with the only words that she caught were “…come on, come on…”  
A figure burst through the door, his hand cradled to his chest, bleeding. His blade was sheathed and he was holding something in his uninjured hand. “Blow it up! They’re coming back to the surface!” he rushed to the car, sporting a sprain by the way that he hobbled.  
The second explosion of the evening shattered the concealed door on the ground. She was glad that they were in the middle of nowhere, otherwise there would have been colossal damage, not to mention hordes of angry civilians. By the looks of it, the only thing that would be upset was…  
She stared at the duo ludicrously. “What the hell?! Did you just blow up an entire cult? That was mass murder for fucks sakes!” The outburst earned her wide-eyed stares from the two of them, as if they had just realised that she was there. Great, she was jumping from one homicidal maniac to another. Granted, they did try to kill her, but which savage would mutilate an entire group?  
“They weren’t human. Not in the slightest. It’s a good thing that we were in the area, or your sorry ass would have been on a one way ticked to Hell”, the green eyed man said, sinking to the ground, his fatigue showing. “Sam, get me the first aid kit. Bring along some holy water. The bite’s starting to burn”, he called for the other guy, Sam, who rummaged through the Impala’s boot.  
She didn’t get what was going on, but the man in front of her was losing a lot of blood. And she figured a living human was easier to get answers from than a dead one. She kneeled next to him, touching his injured arm gently. He flinched. “Chill. I’ve been trained as a medic. I can help you with that, but you need to relax. Alright?”  
He looked at her warily, eyeing her beat up and bloodied diner uniform, but then nodded. Sam handed her the first aid kit. “This isn’t a normal injury, you know.” Helping the injured guy out of his jacket, she scanned the scar, trying to identify what made it and how best to heal it.  
The guy was right. This wasn’t anything that a mortal could inflict. Suddenly, the mass murder didn’t seem so bad, considering now that she knew it was a demon’s nest.  
(Y/n) washed her hands with some water from a bottle. “I know. Third class demon, by the looks of it. Non-poisonous, but hurts like a bitch because the saliva it secretes holds off any healing. It’s gonna scar, pretty boy.”  
“Wait, you know about demons?” Sam asked.  
“Yeah, I’m a healer. I’m supposed to know about this stuff, with it being my job. Angels, demons, curses, witches, vampires and all the whack jobs in between. And I assume you are hunters”  
"You assumed right. I'm Dean, by the way. the Sasquatch back there is my little brother." "(Y/n)(L/n). Thanks for rescuing me, by the way. i don't know what I would've done in there alone. Possibly something that would have gotten me into deeper shit." She cleaned the wound as best as she could, gauging his reaction as to not cause him more pain. When she applied the holy water on his wound, he hissed, but offered no resistance. " This is gonna be a bit weird, so bear with me for a while, okay?" Her hands glowed a cooling blue aura as she tried to speed up his healing. Hunters didn't have the luxury of sick days. " Now, what kind of a healer does that? Which medical school did you even attend? Hogwarts?" She chuckled. " The Earth Temple, actually." The " ah." that he gave seemed as if she had explained it all. As she tended to him, she demanded they tell her the whole story.  
Apparently, the Winchesters, Sam and Dean, had been tracking the cult for quite some time. Led by a demon that had crawled to the Earth two years back, it was responsible for a number of ritual murders, each involving females in their mid-twenties with no other family members. The minor demon tricked humans into working for him, claiming that all they did would be rewarded by the dragonoid effigy in the hereafter, when in fact, the chants and sacrifices were all for the demon. The last lead that the hunters had died in the last town where the cult was rumored to operate, so they had been stuck in a rut for a few months. That is, until her disappearance was noted.  
When she was done, she had asked them to take her home. They had offered to take her with them, worried that there might be remnants of the cult out for her, but she declined. I’m moving to a new town, she said. There’s nothing left for me here, she said. I’ll be fine, she said. And come find me if you need me, she said. So they drove her home, helped her pack and after breakfast, jolt down her phone number and took their leave. She left for a small town the day after.  
They visited her a lot over the course of the years, sometimes with scars and wounds, sometimes with cherry pie. She welcomed them with open arms each time. She had stayed over in the bunker a couple of times, too, mainly to help them in their research, lending her expertise, or even to help them kick ass a couple of times. The Winchesters became the family that she never had.


End file.
